


Reliquary

by monicawoe



Series: Another Version of the Truth [4]
Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Gen, Genesis - Freeform, M/M, and the way deblanc kept looking at the coffee can wistfully, dads, did you see the toys in their trunk, fiore and deblanc are dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monicawoe/pseuds/monicawoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fiore and DeBlanc successfully get Genesis back from Jesse, but Genesis is miserable. And DeBlanc hates seeing their son so sad.</p><p>Inspired by <a href="http://hermouthslipped.tumblr.com/post/148669057329/announcement-fiore-and-deblancs-trunk-is-full-of">this brilliant post about the toys (for Genesis) Fiore and DeBlanc have in their trunk</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Reliquary

**Author's Note:**

> (AU of 'El Valero' - Fiore and DeBlanc get Genesis back from Jesse)

"It's a miracle," DeBlanc said reverently, as he looked at what they'd created. A wondrous, beautiful miracle. 

"They'll kill us." Fiore was frightened. Unusual for him. One of his most charming traits was his ruthlessness—all angels were like that to one degree or another. But Fiore was an adephi—about as low in Heaven's ranks, as DeBlanc was in Hell's.

Soldiers, the both of them. And now they'd gone AWOL, fallen in love, and made something incredible. A child—so powerful he could destroy existence itself. "We just have to keep him under wraps. Keep him hidden. At least until he learns how to hide himself."

"They'll kill us," Fiore repeated miserably.

#

"This?" Fiore stared at the coffee can. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?"

Fiore shook his head. "It's too risky. The kind of power we'd need to even _do_ what you're suggesting—"

"We've got it." DeBlanc ran his fingers over the shifting mass of shimmering light in his lap. "We've got all the power in the world."

"So we're going to talk him into making his own prison?"

DeBlanc glared at Fiore. " _Not_ a prison. A home. A domicile, yeah?" He shifted his weight and another ripple ran through the light—through Genesis. They didn't know how much he could understand just yet, but it was better to assume he understood everything. "A place to keep him safe. So they won't ever find him."

"So they won't kill us." Fiore swallowed. "And what if he gets bored?"

"We'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen."

#

"It worked!" Fiore said, grinning.

DeBlanc was surprised himself at how easily they'd accomplished what they'd set out to do. There, in front of them, sat Genesis—the most powerful being in the world, perfectly content inside of a coffee can.

But something nagged at DeBlanc, and wouldn't stop. It was cruel—to take something so vast and curious and confine it, but what choice did they have? They couldn't undo their creation, nor would they ever want to.

The coffee can they'd used was now a physical link to a pocket dimension. It was admirable craftsmanship really—a permeable layer between worlds infused with enough obscuration to keep both Heaven and Hell in the dark. And all of that within a tin canister. Not an easy feat for an angel and a demon, but with Genesis helping, they'd pulled it off. It could house their child and keep him hidden from prying eyes. For the time being, anyway. If he ever decided he wanted out, there probably wouldn't be a whole lot they could do to stop him.

Of course, they didn't want him to get that idea in the first place, so they kicked part B of the plan into gear. They tried their best to keep him entertained. They told stories. Fiore regaled him with tales of great battles from Heaven's golden days, most of which were a load of bloated propaganda, in DeBlanc's opinion. DeBlanc brought him oddities and curios from the human world, since Genesis already knew everything there was to know about Heaven and Hell—an unintended side-effect of him being born of both.

They had to open the lid to give Genesis his new toys: a small red car, a toy ship, a little porcelain clown with tears beneath his eyes—that one in particular, got a giggle. And every time he opened the coffee can, DeBlanc's heart filled with pride. Genesis was magnificent—endless potential, the unspoiled innocence of new life and free will—completely remarkable. And nobody else would ever see him.

"How are you, my boy?" He reached his hand inside the can, the thin web between dimensions parting easily beneath his fingers. Genesis nuzzled against his hand, and DeBlanc felt a flicker of joy from him—not just recognition, but real joy. He wanted to pick up his son and squeeze him, but any moment out of the can was an exposure they couldn't afford.

So instead, he began to sing—an old nursery rhyme melody. He'd learned lots of songs from the souls in Hell. So many of them sang to themselves—some naive belief that they could withstand any torture Hell had to throw at them if only they kept a song in their hearts. Or something along those lines. It was all bollocks. Music wouldn't protect them, any more than faith or remorse. Hell was Hell for a reason.

But he did like their singing.

"Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night, sailed off in a wooden shoe..."

Genesis swirled happily in its little world and settled in for a nap.

#

And then, one day, Genesis broke free. Escaped—took off without warning and careened out into the wide open world. They hadn't seen it coming, neither of them. DeBlanc was so stunned, he froze completely for a moment—and that was a moment too long. Fiore yanked him out of his stupor, pulled him along and they gave chase. But Genesis was faster than them—so much faster. They followed his trail through the endless expanse of galaxies straight to Earth. Of course he'd pick Earth. The one place they were specifically banned from going without explicit permission. But they didn't have a choice.

#

They found him after a time, and they found the preacher he'd taken residence in.

But Genesis wouldn't come, not even when they sang to him. And the Preacher was beyond reason—used Genesis' power on _them_. Kept them away. Fiore raged and wanted to take more drastic measures, but DeBlanc kept him at bay. They had to keep cool heads, they had to set an example for Genesis. Be role models.

It was painful, knowing where their child was, and not being able to go to him.

Humans though—they were devious, arrogant little creatures, and eventually the preacher's recklessness got him in trouble. He called them for help, asked them to take Genesis back.

DeBlanc's heart leapt for joy when he heard that familiar cry, safely inside the coffee can once again, when he felt Genesis' presence in there. They left quickly, ignoring the preacher's shouts about their supposed promise to get somebody out of Hell. Why should they help him? They'd been wronged here, and whatever he'd done was _his_ fault— _his_ doing. It certainly wasn't their concern.

#

Genesis was miserable. Fiore chose to ignore it, as was his wont. But DeBlanc couldn't. He could hear him crying, quietly, in his little tin home. They'd agreed not to open the lid for a week, some kind of discipline for his escape. But DeBlanc couldn't take it anymore. He still didn't know why Genesis had fled in the first place. And he wanted to understand. He had to.

So, when Fiore left to go report back to headquarters and convince them everything was fine—he'd just been delayed from attending the last three mandatory meetings, that's all, no cause for alarm—DeBlanc opened the lid and reached his hand inside. "We were so worried," he said.

Genesis quieted somewhat, the crying settling into exhausted staccato sobs. "Will you tell me what's wrong?"

And he did, in images, and thoughts, and feelings, so overwhelming DeBlanc's head felt ready to explode. Genesis _missed_ Jesse—fiercely, terribly. He'd bonded with him, knew his hopes and fears. Jesse had felt whole with Genesis and now he'd been abandoned.

"But he's not your concern," DeBlanc said, gently. "He's a human. They're broken. Selfish, terrible, _mortal_. He had no right to—"

And Genesis started crying again, making DeBlanc feel even worse. He pulled away, leaving the lid cracked just a smidge and went to the trunk to grab some of the toys. His favorites—the ship, the car, the clown. He slid them in one by one. But the boat came flying back out, thrown into the air with great force. "Don't be like that. I know you're upset, but—it would've only ended in tragedy. Believe me, I know humans. They're no good, the lot of them."

The lid slammed shut, and Genesis quieted, playing with his toys, or possibly ignoring them, DeBlanc couldn't tell. He paced, not sure what else to do. He couldn't bear seeing his child so upset and ended up sitting down next to the coffee can again. "How about a song?"

The lid popped open just a bit, and DeBlanc felt a ridiculous amount of relief at the small gesture. He cleared his throat, ready to belt out a truly memorable performance. But then something small and blue flew out of the can. DeBlanc dodged to the side just in time to keep from getting hit in the face. It struck the wall instead, clattered when it landed on the floor. He picked it up, curious. The red race-car had turned into a blue pickup truck. He recognized the shape—had seen it parked outside the church. The preacher's truck. "Oh no."

The clown followed next, DeBlanc was prepared this time and caught it midair before it could hit the wall and shatter. It's little costume was black instead of white and it now had a dark beard and a very distinct scowl. "Oh no—no, no, no." The theme was abundantly clear. He hurried back to the tin. "I understand that you're upset. And that you miss him..." DeBlanc tried to find the best words. "But you have to understand that we only want what's best for you. We are trying to keep you safe, just like before."

The can rattled where it stood.

"I know you felt safe, but the preacher—he's a—a lightning rod for trouble." That was a good Earth metaphor, DeBlanc was rather proud of himself. "And plus, he was only using you for his own gains. He doesn't care what you want."

The can rattled again, bouncing around on the floor.

"Well you shouldn't! There's no reason for you to feel obligated to him."

The room started to tint a dark red, Genesis' anger bleeding out around him.

"Fix his mistake? No! Absolutely not! It's _his_ mess. We have enough to deal with. And anyway, do you have any idea how difficult it is to get someone out of Hell?"

The red left the air and Genesis responded.

"No—I don't want you to try!" DeBlanc sighed. "Maybe you _could_ do it, but the kind of attention that would draw, it's—it's simply too risky."

The lid slammed shut again.

DeBlanc tried cajoling, he sang until his voice got sore. He brought other toys, told stories he'd never told before, but Genesis kept ignoring him.

More time passed, and more. And Fiore still wasn't back. DeBlanc started to worry. Then he started to panic.

"They found out. The seraph reported back to them, or maybe they put him in the confessional or worse." DeBlanc looked at the coffee can. He knew Genesis was listening, could feel his concern mirroring his own.

Genesis had an idea.

"No, you can't. You need a soul to inhabit, and I don't have one of those." DeBlanc started pacing again and paused by the table, where he'd set the little clown. He looked down at the bearded, scowly face and had a terrible thought. But what other choice did they have?

#

Jesse Custer was asleep on a cot in a prison cell. He awoke at DeBlanc's approach, and sat up—eyes flicking down to the coffee can and back up. "What're you doing here?"

"We need your help."

"Why would I want to help you?"

"I imagine you wouldn't. But maybe..." DeBlanc opened the lid. "...maybe you'll help him."

Genesis sped out of the can and directly into Jesse, knocking him back against the wall. Jesse stood up dazed, surprised, but undeniably happy.

"Fiore's in trouble. I need your help to save him."

"Save him?" Jesse scoffed. "I'm not doing a damn thing until we get Eugene out of Hell."

DeBlanc muttered a curse. "We'll help you get him out. _After_ you help us."

"Help yourself," Jesse said, and sat back down on the cot, crossing his arms behind his head. Smug bastard.

"We _can't_ free Eugene without Fiore."

"Why not?"

"Because only an angel can raise someone from Hell."

Jesse's brow furrowed. "Ain't you an angel?"

"Not exactly."

"What are you then?"

"That's not important." DeBlanc huffed, impatience getting the better of him. Every minute they wasted was another minute Fiore was in danger.

Jesse stood, and crossed the floor until he was right up against the bars. "Well then, let's go save Fiore."

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr](http://monicawoe.tumblr.com/post/150187284813/reliquary-monicawoe-preacher-tv-archive-of)


End file.
